


Yours Would be Shakespeare's Letters

by Anonymous



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (thats enjolras too), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Inspired by Ratatouille (2007), Light Angst, Multi, Smoking, Trans Enjolras, atouille if you will, its just a few lines in passing but just in case it'll be tagged in each individual chapter, sometimes you gotta ratatouille without the rat, the fic is mostly just wholesome but its rated T bc of how many swear words i put in, there are so many swears i am so sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29986137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Had someone told Grantaire a few years back that he would spend his time between the kitchen of a high-end restaurant and the weekly meetings of a social activism group he would’ve laughed hysterically, but now he cannot imagine spending his days any other way.or the series of events that lead to Grantaire losing his job.
Relationships: Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy/Éponine Thénardier, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Tarte Tatin

**Author's Note:**

> do you ever just watch that chef catherine z jones movie and think "wow i could totally write a les mis fanfic about it"? yeah me too  
> disclaimer: my only knowledge of how a restaurant kitchen works comes from ratatouille and a friend who works in one, so yeah. and also english is not my first language if this is full of mistakes, sowwy  
> The title is from "It Only Takes a Taste" from the musical Waitress
> 
> also another thing (kinda spoiler-y) but Jean Valjean is refered throughout most of the fic as Fauchelevent for reasons that shall be revealed towards the end, but just know that when I say Chef Fauchelevent i'm talking about Valjean

The routine of a kitchen is total chaos, at least in a somewhat synchronized way, everything is happening at all moments and it can be kind of overwhelming but there’s a routine that everyone flows into and then Grantaire doesn’t mind the yelling out numbers and the constant motion of dinner rush 

Had someone told him a few years back that he would spend his time between the kitchen of a high-end restaurant and the weekly meetings of a social activism group he would’ve laughed hysterically, but now he cannot imagine spending his days any other way. It worked almost perfectly actually, he would get Sundays off (Mondays too if he was lucky) and those were the afternoons spent arguing with Enjolras. And in that way the routine of adulthood he had been so scared of falling into when he was younger became his saving grace, especially when he started to cut back his drinking.

Normally going through the motions of his job at l’Étalage was hectic enough to leave his body tired and his mind pleasantly empty by the time he got home, and his days off were consumed with vying for attention from his hopeless crush, repotting plants with Jehan or running with Éponine around the park near her apartment. It didn’t mean it was any easier, recovery, it still sucked. But when he took the time to look around to the things he thought he would never get to have, it was hard not to feel proud of himself, no matter how foreign the feeling.

_Smoking is a whole different issue_ he thought on his way out the backdoor. Smoke breaks were quite common in l’Étalage, all kitchens were stressful, but the owners of this restaurant were a special kind, so he wasn’t surprised to see Michael, the dishwasher, already there lighting his own cigarette.

“Rough day?” he says, gesturing to pass him the lighter

“Where do I even begin? Did you hear the owners are on their way over?” 

The groan that followed was involuntary, each time the owners showed up to ‘supervise’ he was tempted to pull the vacation days he saved up for no reason to just not have to see them at all.

“Again? I thought they’d already gotten their publicity stunt of the month” they both took a long drag off their cigarettes in silence

“Something about public image and whatever, just, try to stay out of their way. I know that’s what I’m planning to do,” Michael stubbed the remainder of his cigarette and made his way to the door “At least Fauchelevent has our back, huh?”

“He’s a godsend” Grantaire shook his head

With the long to-do list he had set aside to work on through the day, Grantaire had all but forgotten the owners were bound to show up at some point. That was until the doors to the kitchen unceremoniously slammed open.

“Madame, we are honored to have you here once more” he heard Executive Chef Fauchelevent say. He was one of the kindest people Grantaire had ever met but even his tone was short when addressing the owners.

“I trust you know why we took the time out our busy schedules to check back with your team” the snooty woman shaking Fauchelevent’s hand had a way to instantly get in Grantaire’s nerves, the way she walked like she owned everything; although she did own this kitchen, legally speaking.

The only people in staff that knew their names were the Manager and the Executive Chef, everyone else was to address them as _madame et monsieur_ ; since his paychecks came signed from the l’Étalage as a fiscal figure, he didn’t much care if he never learned their names

“I’m afraid not, is there something I should be aware of?”

“Perhaps the fact that there’s nothing is what you should be aware of,” stated Monsieur owner stepping into the kitchen beside the chef “while the business is fine right now, I think you would agree that there’s a lack of notoriety when it comes to l’Étalage as a brand”

“Our team has advised us,” Madame owner had a look on her face like the smell of the room had suddenly grown stale “to give you the go ahead on your new menu, Fauchelevent”

For all that sourness in the owner’s face, Chef Fauchelevent’s eyes light up like he had just been given a lifetime opportunity instead of just being allowed to do his job freely.

“Of course this means we’ll stay in Paris for now, to ensure the new menu is up to l’Étalage standards” Monsieur owner hurried to say

“It will not disappoint, I assure you” he clapped his hands with a giddy smile “We’ll set to work on it right now, everyone, get ready for a change!”

With a chorus of “yes, chef!” it was decided, and Grantaire knew he had a long week to get through

And a long week it was, his whole body was still sore as he made his way towards the Café Musain. He barely had the strength to argue back to Enjolras when he talked about the importance of reducing food waste 

“You’re operating on the thought that those companies care about anything other than profit” he halfheartedly said “Food scarcity helps them, why would they even think to alleviate it?”

“What is it you propose, then? Letting food rot in the dumpsters of _Carrefour_?” while there was an edge of righteousness in his tone, it seemed Enjolras wasn’t too interested in arguing either “why don’t we focus on what we can do to change it?”

While Enjolras carried on with his speech, pacing around, all Grantaire could notice was how tired he looked, eventually he sat down next to Feuilly and Combeferre stood up to speak

“Is everything okay with you two?” Joly asked, leaning towards Grantaire “you both look like shit”

“Enjolras never looks like shit”

“Fair” he coincided “but he does look exhausted”

“His parents” Marius offered from the table behind them, where he sat on Cosette’s lap “they’re staying in Paris for the first time in years, and, it’s been hard for him”

Grantaire spared one glance to Éponine, who sat next to Marius and Cosette and very resolvedly looked anywhere else but towards them, he sighed and looked as Enjolras took a swig from his coffee

“How many cups has he had?”

“Today or in the last hour?” Cosette shrugged when Joly looked towards her bewildered “you try telling him to stop”

They all looked at the way Enjolras kept the coffee mug protectively between his hands and shuddered at the thought of taking it away and that was that.

“For those available on Wednesday, Jehan and Bahorel are volunteering at their usual soup kitchen and have asked for me to extend the invitation” Enjolras said as everyone was readying to leave

“Can’t make it. Work” Grantaire said, almost expecting for Enjolras to yell at him for being selfish

“That’s perfectly understandable, Grantaire” he said instead “See you next Sunday, then”

“Did y’all see that?” he asked once Enjolras was out of sight

“He would never shame you for having to prioritize your job, R, you know that” Joly shrugged

“Well yeah, I know that” he didn’t. “I just mean it’s weird how civil he’s being right now, right?”

“Nope, not entertaining this. I’m out” Éponine said “just go get some sleep, dude”

To her credit, sleep sounded like a great idea right then 

The week went by in a breeze, if the breeze was more of a tornado of the organizational hell that comes with creating a new menu when Fauchelevent is the Executive Chef, pushing for innovation, making sure the quality is good, the prices are as affordable as fine dining can get (much the chagrin of the owners) the chef also liked to consult with everyone on the team and get as many opinions as possible before committing, it was refreshing to see someone so talented as Chef Fauchelevent stay so in tune with everyone in the restaurant, but it also meant that by the time the menu was ready for its debut everyone was ready to sleep for a week, but they couldn’t.

Having the owners in there full time was the absolute worst turn of events Grantaire could’ve imagined, they were careless to the kitchen’s rules, rude to everyone on the staff and generally a pain in the ass. Fauchelevent was as kind as ever, but even he was reaching his limit and tension were starting to get to everyone. The date of the new menu was getting closer and closer, and while generally Grantaire didn’t care much for the changes in menu this time he was a bit nervous. The community manager had been in charge of selling it as the most groundbreaking thing in God’s green earth and she said it had worked, they had a full house for the debut; besides Fauchelevent had put so much of himself in it that the idea of things going wrong made Grantaire’s chest hurt.

“Don’t they remind you of someone?” Grantaire asked sharing a smoke with Michael

“Who? The owners?”

“Yeah, like, an actor or a model” this had been driving Grantaire crazy lately, the more he saw the owners walk around the restaurant the more they reminded him of someone he couldn’t quite pinpoint

“Everyone looks famous when they’re rich, man”

“Fair enough” Grantaire said with an ugly snort

“Do you reckon that’s why we don’t know their names?” Michael said after a beat of silence

“Huh?”

“Like, they’re these super famous people and they don’t us to piggyback off their fame”

“Honestly? They’re probably using this restaurant as front to keep their dirty money clean, or something”

“Dude…” Michael looked at him with an almost worried expression 

“Beats working minimum wage, huh?” He lifted himself up the wall he was leaning on and stubbed his cigarette 

“Speak for yourself, monsieur pastry chef”

The debut was on a Friday night, which was good for the business, but it also meant everyone had already been working for the whole week and they were tired; however the minutes before the doors opened Grantaire felt invigorated just on the energy that the kitchen had. He didn’t work night shifts most days, being a pastry chef, but today they needed all the help they could get, so he grabbed his last cup of coffee for the day and got ready for what was bound to be the longest night of the month, if not the year.

Everything started right on track, the orders coming in and the plates coming out like a well-oiled machine. It took a second for Grantaire to get used to the noise but once he was in the zone, he got to work under the approving stare of Chef Fauchelevent.

And then the madame et monsieur owners had to show up.

The kitchen has a routine, a rhythm in the way everyone circles around, almost brushing into each other but never fully bumping; now, introduce two people who have never worked in a kitchen, oh and a cameraman and it is just a disaster waiting to happen.

“There’s a few pictures we need to get” Madame owner said but no one made the slight movement to look towards her “they’re very important for the website”

“Madame, Monsieur, I am very sorry, but I must ask you to stay outside, I cannot have you knock into anyone right now” Chef Fauchelevent was still nice about it, but you could tell he was beginning to have enough with their constant interruptions.

“What are you implying, chef? What is it you think we are clumsy enough to do?”

It was at times like these that Grantaire questioned God’s existence, although if he did exist he wasn’t too sure he liked him, because the second those words were out of her mouth Madame owner stepped straight into Michael’s path. The following scene happened in a span of, maybe, five minutes; but from the place of the kitchen Grantaire had suddenly gotten glued into by shock, it felt like hours.

First, a pot of bright red sauce slipped out from the top of the pile of dirty dishes in Michael’s tray… straight into Madame owner’s stupidly expensive white blazer; and then yelling, not the yelling of a kitchen, of orders and time remaining but the yelling of someone angry beyond their wits, and finally an apron and a tray of dirty dishes being pushed into Madame owner’s hands

“You know what? I don’t need this. Do you think I get paid enough to tolerate this? Because I don’t” Michael was shaking, whether it was from anger or something else, Grantaire didn’t know right now “Good fucking luck finding a dishwasher in the middle of dinner rush on a Friday”

He made his way to the cubbies where employees kept their stuff in the small break room and grabbed his backpack, he opened the backdoor and looked back mouthing ‘sorry’ to the rest of the team, Fauchelevent only nodded at him with a sad look on his face. The second the door slammed shut, the kitchen went into chaos, real chaos this time

“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal” said Madame owner with an exasperated sigh after the kitchen calmed somewhat “who cares if we lose our dishwasher for the night?”

“Madame,” Fauchelevent was using _the_ voice, the one he used when he had to kick out a customer, and suddenly Grantaire remembered this man could probably break him in half with his bare hands “a dishwasher is one of the most important employees a kitchen can have, I will not have you insult my staff like this” 

“Even if it weren’t” the sous-chef butted in “we are severely understaffed already, none of us can’t replace Michael right now”

The owner turned red, like the stain on her blazer, after being chastised by her executive chef and her only answer was a definite “Humph!”

“Grantaire, do you think you can call your friend to cover for the night? We can pay her accordingly” the sous-chef asked, Éponine worked at a café and could definitely cover for Michael and had done so in the past.

“No can do” he said, finally pulled out of his shock “she’s out of town until Monday”

All he got from what the sous-chef was muttering were expletives

“It is, not how I expected the night to go, _however_ ” this was the first time since he’d started working here seeing the owners look bashful, maybe even embarrassed “our son is up front and he owes us. He can work the night”

He barely dwelled on the implications of ‘ _our son owes us’_ because if there was one thing worse than two rich people that don’t know anything about working a kitchen, it’s three.

“Perfect” Fauchelevent said, because it wasn’t as if they had much of a choice either way.

Approximately eight minutes later the doors to the kitchen opened again, this time no cameraman and no owners 

“Excuse me, does anyone have a shirt I can borrow?” a voice said “I am not, uh, dressed accordingly”

It took his brain a whole second to recognize who that voice belonged to, and then another second for his brain to reboot, making him almost drop a pot full of vegetable stock.

“Enjolras?!”


	2. Mille-feuille

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all my knowledge of french patisserie going to chapter titles? more likely than you think  
> there's a small mention of Enjolras' parents maybe not accepting Enjolras but its passing comment, letting y'all know just in case!

Grantaire was thinking about how much the service would be delayed if he had a panic attack right then and there when Enjolras eyes fell on him, there was a small second of surprise that he barely had time to register.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras asked making his way towards him, looking up and down his stained apron “You work _here_?”

“Don’t say it like it’s bad” he attempted to joke

“Oh! That’s not what I meant!” Enjolras’ face went red, which did nothing to help calm Grantaire down “sorry, I didn’t know, that’s all!”

“No worries, Apollo.” _okay you can do this, Grantaire, just get through the shift_ “Come with me, I have an extra shirt”

He ignored the stares from his coworkers as they made their way to the cubbies Michael had just pulled his stuff out of, and it felt like it had happened years ago instead of barely a while back, Grantaire pulled out an extra shirt from his duffel bag and offered it to the blond.

“It might be a bit big on you but, you know” he trailed off.

“That’s alright” Enjolras answered, looking down at the shirt “thanks, Grantaire”

And promptly Enjolras dropped his blazer on a bench and began to undo the buttons of his shirt. The effort it took Grantaire to keep his cool was downright herculean, he turned away either out of respect for Enjolras’ privacy or because he was trying to keep him from noticing the pure gay panic in his eyes.

“So, how long have you been working here? If you don’t mind me asking” said Enjolras while putting Grantaire’s shirt on.

“Coming on four years. How long have you been their son?” he attempted another joke because he was about to have a nervous breakdown and he had the right to choose the coping mechanism.

“Legally? Nine years ago” he answered, deadpan “although that doesn’t mean much to them”

He hoped Enjolras couldn’t see the way Grantaire cringed at that; of course the owners were never openly bigoted, but he wouldn’t bet any money on them being too accepting.

“Sorry”

“No, no, I’m sorry” he sighed “I’ve just been on edge all night, not your fault”

“Parents, huh? Can’t live with them…”

After a few seconds of waiting for Grantaire to continue, Enjolras breathed out a small laugh.

“Yeah well, I better get to dishwashing” Enjolras said “A little short, but it’ll work”

Just as Grantaire turned around to see Enjolras pulling on the ends of the shirt did it occur to him that he was not only meant to work in the same kitchen as Enjolras for the rest of his shift but also he had to endure Enjolras wearing his shirt and the way it was just barely long enough. _Of course,_ he thought, while Grantaire was certainly bigger, Enjolras was much taller than him. He looked up towards the ceiling, daring the powers that be to explain what he had done to deserve this.

The good thing about how busy the debut night was is that he barely had time to truly dwell on Enjolras working with him and by the time his shift ended he was too exhausted to think at all.

The night cleaning crew was working on the kitchen when the rest of the staff made their way to the front, it was tradition that on days like these, they would all share dinner. The owners, _the Enjolras,_ slipped out of the restaurant the second the diners were gone but Enjolras had awkwardly stuck around.

“I should probably get out of your way” he said when he finished his last dish.

“Nonsense, you work with us, you eat with us” Fauchelevent had said with a smile and that voice you just can’t refuse; he had always had this thing with making sure his employees were fed, no one was allowed to leave without at least taking the meal to go. 

“Thank you” was all Enjolras said, suddenly bashful.

It wasn’t the first time Enjolras and Grantaire had shared dinner, whether it was a meeting running long into the night or a special occasion at one of the amis’ place, but here they were, sat next to each other, tired and sore, with Enjolras wearing his shirt and Grantaire’s apron full of stains and it felt different.

“This is wonderful” Enjolras commented after his first bite “I’ve never had something this delicious”

“Teamwork makes the dream work” Fauchelevent looked so pleased at the compliment.

“He’s being modest” the Maitre d’ said through a mouthful of food “he does all of this himself, just for the love of it”

“It really is amazing” Enjolras smiled “Thank you for inviting me”

“You really saved our asses today, monsieur” the sous-chef said “you deserve this as much as any of us”

Enjolras blushed again at being called monsieur, even if all the amis thought of him as the leader of the group, they still treated him like an equal, well, all of them except Grantaire.

The rest of the dinner went fine, if albeit a little silent, everyone just wanted to get home and sleep for the weekend (after the whole debacle the owners had given them all a day off on a Saturday which never happened). Grantaire was standing by the front door of L’Étalage lighting a cigarette when Enjolras walked up to him

“Thanks for the shirt, by the way” he said “I’ll give it back to you next meeting, okay? I, uh, have perhaps miscalculated the amount of sweating that was going to happen”

“Keep it” he hurried to say and the urge to slap himself was almost overwhelming “I mean, if you want it, I never use it anymore”

“Are you sure? I can just wash it and give it back by Sunday”

“Nah, don’t worry” _in for a penny,_ he thought “I have like, five of them. You can keep it”

“Five of them?” Enjolras asked, looking down at the poorly rendered band logo on the shirt.

“The only good thing that comes from a college band is an uncomfortable amount of shitty diy shirts” he laughed “and the names of the cheapest bars around campus”

He didn’t mention he hadn’t used that bit of knowledge since last year.

“You were in a band?!” Enjolras was looking at him the way he had back when he first stepped into the kitchen.

“If we’re going by loose definition of _band_ , then yeah”

“So, did you play an instrument or?” Grantaire couldn’t handle being at the end of that look Enjolras got when he was curious about something, he had accepted that Enjolras would never want to get to know him a long time ago

“Same answer, but sure. Guitar mainly” Grantaire answered

“Mainly?” he looked impressed “I’ll have to give them a listen, then, if I’m to wear this shirt”

“Wouldn’t want the hardcore _Pointless Pencils_ fans to think you’re a poser”

“Of course not” he laughed, this was the second time today that Grantaire had made him laugh and he briefly wondered if this was real, maybe he died tragically during service and this was his weird version of purgatory. “See you on Sunday?”

“Wouldn’t dare to miss it, Apollo” Grantaire said, putting out his cigarette out and shoving his hands down his pockets ready to make his way home

“Oh, and Grantaire?” Enjolras called back after a few feet. “Thank you, for the shirt I mean”

“Don’t mention it”

For a second he thought about calling Éponine, but he knew she was stressed out, trying to get Azelma into Paris with her, and most importantly away from her parents, so he dared a text to Cosette instead.

_were u goin to tell me enjolras folks owned the restaurant?????. 22:45_

_in my defense……..._

_………………………...._

_yeah i’ve got nothing. 22:46_

_i accept apologies in cinnamon rolls. 22: 48_

_deal xx. 22:48_

It had been years since he’d been this nervous walking to the Musain, but he didn’t know how he was supposed to behave, should he just pretend like nothing happened? Did everyone else know about Enjolras’ parents? He almost turned right back to his apartment when he remembered Cosette’s promise, surely her cinnamon rolls were worth the embarrassment.

He sat were always did, near the back away from Enjolras’ usual table, and soon enough someone dropped into the chair next to him.

“You’re looking awfully pensive” Jehan said, softly placing a hand over his “what is on your mind, dear?”

“Did you know Enjolras’ parents own a restaurant?” he went straight to the point

“Enjolras’ parents own a lot of things” they said, somberly “why do you- _ah_ ”

“ _Ah_ ”

“What happened, then?”

“Our dishwasher quit on the spot” Jehan was listening attentively, so he decides to just retell the whole story, if only for his peace of mind “and now it’s awkward”

“You still have PP merch?” was all they said

“Don’t call it that, I’m already embarrassed enough” he groaned “and yeah of course I do, we sucked”

“Don’t say that” Jehan slapped his arm lightly “You were good”

“Good for folk punk is still pretty bad”

Jehan didn’t argue.

“I’m sure Enjolras would enjoy it” they said instead, and when they saw the look on Grantaire’s face they added “angry guitar strumming about how discontent you are with the current state of the world? He’ll dig it”

He groaned again, resting his forehead on the table

“Just leave here me to die”

“Who would I give these to, then?” he heard Cosette say

“My savior, the light at the end of my tunnel of despair! Sorry, Marius” Grantaire exclaimed overly dramatic, making grabby hands at the Tupperware full of cinnamon rolls “Cosette is the new love of my life”

“It is an understandable reaction to her baking, I don’t mind” Marius answered honestly, looking at his girlfriend like she hung the moon and stars.

“This is literally what _you_ do for a living, R” she laughed “I’m sure yours are much better”

“No way! Mine are not made out of love and sunshine like these”

“Stress and teardrops, rather?” said Jehan, reaching across the table for a roll

“Exactly” he slapped their hand away, but then proceeded to offer up the Tupperware to them anyway “Thanks, Cosette, you are officially forgiven, I’ll handle the paperwork”

“What a relief” she joked, she reached into her bag and grabbed a cardboard box wrapped in a pretty bow “this is for Éponine, I mean, I’m sure Gavroche and her could use some sweets after Monday”

“I’m sure she’ll love them, if Gavroche doesn’t devour them all first” he said “but, shouldn’t you give it to her yourself?”

“Oh!” she laughed a bit awkwardly and blushed “I’m not sure she likes me very much, but, you know, they deserve a treat"

“You are an angel in this bitch of a world, Cosette” and he wasn’t exaggerating at all “no one could ever hate you, not even Éponine”

“Oh shush” she looked bashful, Jehan and Grantaire shared a look and then looked at Marius who, as usual, seemed blissfully unaware.

Combeferre cleared his throat, recounting some budget numbers and stuff Grantaire genuinely did not understand, in any other situation he might’ve occupied his time by watching Enjolras go through his notes but right now he was trying to avoid so much as staring near his vicinity.

“Everything okay?” Joly said, leaning towards him

“Fuckin’ peachy, dude” Grantaire said, looking towards the wall opposite of Enjolras as the blond stood up to take Combeferre’s place

Joly looked at him again after realizing Enjolras’ speech about food scarcity had gone absolutely uninterrupted 

“I know I asked you last time, but is everything okay with you two? You haven’t said a single sarcastic comment”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Joly” he said, matter-of-factly

“Fine be like that” Joly turned back towards Enjolras, not before sneaking a cinnamon roll off the plastic container

“The Hunger Relief Organization has reached forward and invited us to a peaceful sit-in next month” Enjolras continued talking, unaware of what was happening in the back of the room

“A protest?” Marius asked.

“They want to hijack the dumpsters of major grocery chains and organize a sit in by the parliament, to showcase the amount of wasted food”

“Sitting in the sun with rotten food, that’s how I wanna spend my day” Grantaire said, but everyone could see there was no real heat behind it, Joly looked at him with a raised eyebrow “I suppose I don’t have anything better to do”

“If your reasoning for attending a protest is the lack of a more enjoyable activity perhaps you shouldn’t attend at all”

“Do not fret, Apollo” Grantaire looked at him with what he hoped came across as challenge but probably didn’t “I’ll be there with my own bag of spoiled food straight from the supermarket dumpster”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, carrying on with the logistics.

There was a part of him that expected to see Michael on dishwashing duty come Monday, but when he got to the l'Etalage for his early prepping, the kitchen was eerily quiet except for some whispering coming from the break room. _They must’ve cancelled the breakfast service,_ he thought as he followed the hushed voices.

“You can’t have expected Michael to come back after what happened on Friday” he heard Fachelevent say

“Of course I did! He has a duty to L’Étalage, to us!” Madame owner exclaimed, he couldn't think of her as Enjolras’ mom even if by now, knowing the truth he could draw the physical similarities that were driving him crazy the past weeks

“Not anymore” simply stated the chef

“At least we have Philipe to help in the meantime, until you find a more competent dishwasher”

“Indeed. He will need to be trained, though”

“Can’t you do it?” asked Monsieur owner, he actually looked even more like Enjolras, but if every bit of fiery passion in him was replaced by cold calculation.

“I’ll be busy conducting the interviews to find the replacement, but I have just the chef in mind” Fauchelevent turned around just in time to see Grantaire standing near the doorway “Ah, Grantaire! Come in, we were just talking about you!”

“You were?” he scratched the back of his head, definitely not loving where this was going.

“Of course! You know the owner’s son, right? He’ll be staying with us for the unforeseeable future and he needs someone to show him the ropes”

“So you want me to…”

“Show him the ropes!” he repeated.

Grantaire really, really, _really_ hated how hard it was to say no to Fauchelevent

“So, you already know the breakroom and the kitchen,” Grantaire said, gesturing to the giant room that was the cooking area.

“Huh-huh” Enjolras mumbled, he’d arrived at the end of Lunch service ready to get to washing when he was roped into a tour by Grantaire.

“Okay here’s the storage room, over there is the walk-in fridge” he pointed at various places as they walked, explaining what everything did and why he should know “and let me introduce you to the team”

“Is that really necessary, Grantaire?” Enjolras asked, awkwardly standing by the entrance to breakroom

“What do you mean?” He had seen Enjolras be shy or bashful before, but it was actually offputting to see him be awkward. Like catching a Disney actor out of costume or something.

“I just, I mean” it really wasn’t like Enjolras to not be sure of what he was saying “I don’t want them to feel like I’m a spy of my parents, or like I got a job because of it, so maybe it's better if I don’t”

“Enjolras, that’s stupid as fuck”

“Excuse me?!” he looked bewildered

“Hey, don’t take this the wrong way” Grantaire looked at Enjolras, it was surreal to see him be nervous about meeting people “everyone here hates your parents, maybe not Fauchelevent but I don’t think he physically can hate someone”

“How’s that supposed to help feel better?” Enjolras frowned at him

“You already proved that you’re better than them the second Apollo himself dignified to wash the dishes"

“Dishwashing is a honorable job, as noble as any other, no one should have to feel ashamed of doing it!”

“I know that and they know that, but it doesn’t mean every rich kid around does” he saw Enjolras open his mouth and hurried to say “I don’t think of you as just a rich kid, Enjolras, and you’ve already proven to them too that you’re not”

“I am, though” Enjolras looked at his shoes “At the end of the day, my parents are rich and I’m their kid, right?” 

As weird as it was to see him be awkward, it was weirder to see him use the kind of humor Grantaired himself used to deflect the focus of a conversation; and it was even more strange to be having a heartfelt conversation with Enjolras at all.

“You don’t depend on them anymore, right?”

“Of course not!”

“Then who cares, you’re spending every living hour thinking of ways to help other people, man, you go against everything they stand for, you know? That’s enough”

“It doesn’t feel like it”

“And even if you were” Grantaire continued “economically dependent on your parents, I mean, no offense but they deserve to have their money spent”

“None taken”

“So you wanna meet the staff, then?”

The same way dinner was tradition at l’Étalage lunches were also spent together. Grantaire couldn’t help but watch the way Enjolras connected with the staff, especially after seeing be so awkward about meeting them, he was used to being in the presence of the social avenger, awe-inspiring but could put you down with a look and this Enjolras was just a guy chatting with his coworkers, about their families and whatnot, not once mentioning Marx.

“I’ll take the plates” he said, once lunch was finished, setting the dirty dishes on his tray, Grantaire was surprised of how quickly Enjolras got acclimatized to his job here, logically, he knew Enjolras had worked odd jobs while trying to stop relying on his parents back in college, but still it was weird, he shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. He needed to get a grip.

He looked towards were the general manager was checking her iPad

"The menu debut was a success" she said. “nothing but praises to the Chef”

"Maybe too much of a success" grimaced the sous-chef, reading over her shoulder, he pointed at the title of an article

_Restaurant L’Étalage and Chef Fauchelevent: A bastardization of fine dining._

“What the hell?” the prep cook said, they grabbed the iPad off the table “ _Chef Fauchelevent proves yet again that not all change means progress. Do not be fooled solely by what is new and shiny, there’s a reason for our customs and traditions…._ Who the hell does this guy think he is?”

“Statistically it’s pretty impossible that everyone would like the rebrand'' Grantaire joked, trying to lift the mood a bit “It’s not the first bad review we’ve gotten, it won’t be the last. I vote we ignore it”

“He didn’t even come to the opening! Listen to this” the prep cook said, feeling insulted “ _While I’m sure I am right in this regard, I’ll admit I haven’t had the misfortune of coming across Chef Fauchelevent since he was but an amateur. One would believe by mere practice and persistence the quality of his work would’ve improved, but I’d like to be the judge of that personally. And so I raise the challenge to L’Étalage, to surprise me in my upcoming visit to your restaurant, but I warn you it will not be an easy feat to accomplish”_

“What an a-hole” said the general manager

“Who even is this guy?” asked the Maître d`

“Let’s see” the prep cook scrolled back to the top of the article, trying to find the name of the critic “Someone by the name of… _Oh fuck_ ”

“What?!” the sous-chef leaned over their shoulder “ _oh, oh no”_

“Is anyone gonna actually tell us his name or do we have three guesses?” Grantaire said, feeling queasy out of a sudden

“It’s Javert, the critic is Javert” he heard, coming from behind them, as they turned around Chef Fauchelevent stood there, his phone in his hand, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so, grantaire being in a folk punk band during college is, objectively, a good take and it is the hill i will die on (and enjolras liking folk punk is also great i wont take any criticism)  
> and btw anton ego from rataouille and javert are literally the same person and i have proof /s
> 
> anyway thanks for reading!


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